“Very funny,” Celeste said, picking up her glass and taking a drink.
Nico also took a drink.
She was wearing a dress now. When she’d entered the restaurant, a couple of the technicians let out low whistles and made comments, but Rocco shushed them as she’d drawn near.
“Your turn, Roc,” Dario said.
Rocco hesitated. “You know, Dario, technically that wasn’t fair, given you saiddress. It’s supposed to be something that applies to everyone sitting at the table. And given neither one of us likes to cross-dress, you should have saidsomethinginstead ofdress, and in that case …”
Rocco picked up his glass and took a drink.
“Dude!” Dario exclaimed.
“It was the inseam. The tailor got it wrong.”
Celeste giggled. “What? You hang to the right, Rocco?”
“No,” he replied, his voice gruff. “To the left. You girls should be thanking me for being so damn upright.”
“Upright?” Nico asked, a feigned look of surprise on her face. “I thought you said you hang left.”
Dario and Celeste burst out laughing.
“Or”—Nico tilted her head, a wry smile on her lips—“perhaps you think we should be grateful for your coming to our rescue.”
Rocco leaned toward her, slivering his eyes and grinning.
“You mean, like a good prince would? Maybe,” he said, leaning even closer, “it’s just a forward-thinking prince recognizing there ought to be a level playing field.”
Even though her dark eyes were hard to read, he thought he saw some change in them as though a window had opened.
“Ahem.”
It was Dario who’d cleared his throat.
Rocco righted himself and avoided meeting his or Celeste’s gaze. “I guess it’s my turn now.”
He thought a moment, and then it came to him.Perfect, he thought.
“Well,” he said, looking around the table, “as long as we’re venturing down under, never have I ever gone commando.”
He and Dario both took a drink. He glanced over at Nico. She and Celeste were eyeing each other, both of them tapping their fingers on the glasses before them.
Finally, Dario nudged Celeste. “Come on, Cellie, play by the rules. You know I know the answer to this one.”
Celeste sighed and took a drink.
Nico put her head down, grinning, and took a drink too.
Well. Well. Well.
Dario’s cell phone rang. “My mom,” he said. “Let me go outside to take this. Be back in a flash.”
Once he’d left, Celeste tapped Nico’s arm. “So, what’s your costume?”
Dario’s parents threw a masquerade ball at their Lake Como villa every year. This time it fell in between the Monza and Monaco races.
Nico shook her head. “You’ll know when you see me.”
